


Just a taste

by Tcharlatan



Category: Dir en grey, Sadie (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Band Fic, Bukkake, Casual Sex, Eiffel Tower, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, POV First Person, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 14:48:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tcharlatan/pseuds/Tcharlatan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Die goes over to Kyo and Mao's place for a movie night, and winds up being offered far more than he had ever hoped for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a taste

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of pure fiction. I do not personally know any of the members of Dir en Grey or Sadie, and do not profit from this work.

There’s something indefinably fascinating about watching Kyo and Mao interact. I’m kind of a people-watcher by nature, and most people seem to follow similar trends once you look close enough, but somehow everything _they_ do takes on an entirely unique flavor when the other is around, unlike anything I’ve seen before. They’re like… jigsaw puzzle pieces, I think. At first glance, they look very similar; two parts of the same whole, cut from the same picture. But when you look closer, you realize they’re almost complete opposites, but it’s like they have to be, because otherwise how would they fit together so well? The chaos in Mao – a blinding, blazing wildfire – melds into the turmoil in Kyo – writhing, cancerous rot – and they seem to sooth and incite each other all at once.

I think that in his final glory, Kyo will wither to his death, the poisonous blackness inside of him spreading out to stain all the world with his pain. He’s said as much, and I tend to believe everything that he says, if only because he himself believes it so adamantly. Mao, on the other hand, will likely go out like a damned supernova; engulfing and consuming everything around him in a final blast of light and fire. The journey they take towards their spectacular finales is utterly captivating, so I watch them every chance I get, even though I’m pretty sure I’m being slowly blinded and stained as a result.

Sometimes, though – like tonight – I think I watch them because they’re both incredibly attractive.

Ah… that might be a bit inappropriate, all things considered. I mean, Kyo is practically my brother, and he and Mao have been together for some time now, so… Yeah, I probably shouldn’t be lingering on how plush Kyo’s mouth always looks, or that enthralling barbell resting against the smooth skin at the base of Mao’s neck. But it’s hard to focus on the profound, philosophical curiosities that surround them – or the television show we’re supposed to be watching – when I’m sitting on their couch, half drunk, and they’re right there next to me, putting on a goddamn show with cherries and chocolate dip. They’re not being lewd exactly; there’s no gratuitous moaning or unnecessary groping involved. They’re just reclining there, Kyo between Mao’s legs with his back resting against his lover’s chest, lazily dipping the fruit into the sauce and feeding one another. It’s a sweet enough display, and really, it shouldn’t inspire anything in me but fondness; happiness for what they’ve found in eachother.

But it’s the little things – the way Mao licks and nips Kyo’s fingertips with each pass, the way Kyo’s tongue peeks out to collect stray chocolate from his lip, Kyo’s free hand reaching up to thread through Mao’s hair and Mao’s trailing down to rub at the hipbone peeking out over Kyo’s pajama pants – that really stick out to me. I feel like a voyeur all of a sudden. Their apartment is – as always – mostly dark, the air warm and smelling faintly of sandalwood incense, and it lends to a distinct feeling of intimacy. Kyo is shirtless, scarred and toned and tattooed, and Mao is wrapped around him, possessive and entirely self-indulgent, and somehow they look like so much more than simple mortal men in that moment. I feel a little flush.

All of this might be just a little easier to deal with if I was more sober. Or if Kyo’s feet weren’t resting, warm and heavy, over my crotch. Or if Mao’s toes weren’t rubbing absently against my lower back, sneaking up under my shirt. Was this couch always so small?

I manage to force my attention onto to the television for a few minutes before a faint murmur of confusion to my left calls my gaze back. If the streak of chocolate across Kyo’s cheek and Mao’ searching hand are any indication, one of them missed, and a cherry has gone AWOL in the dip of Kyo’s neck. They manage to fish it out and set it aside, but Mao gets a wicked little glimmer in his eyes and takes the opportunity (excuse) to lean down to run his tongue along Kyo’s face, collecting the lingering sauce. Kyo wrinkles his nose and grins slightly, his head rolling to one side to grant Mao better access as the younger goes after the chocolate down his neck. Evidently this is something of a sensitive spot, because Kyo’s toes start curling up against my groin, and it takes absolutely everything I have not to press up into him, just a little.

I’ve been single too long, I think.

Thankfully, the episode goes to credits before too long, and the unanimous desire for a short break in the marathon seems understood. Kyo detangles himself from Mao and mutters something about the bathroom as he heads down the hall, and I make my way towards the kitchen, intent on another beer. I grab a bottle, glance over the vast myriad of photos and magazine clippings covering the refrigerator door (Mao’s influence; Kyo’s fridge always used to be mostly blank) as I pop the cap, and lean back against the counter to take a deep drink. More alcohol is probably not the solution, but damned if I don’t feel a little better anyways.

Separation brings me little peace, though. I find myself wondering what they’re like when they’re… together. Like, intimately. In public, they’re the perfect picture of discretion; no flirty looks or handholding or kissy-faces or anything like that. Unless you know one or both of them exceptionally well, and know exactly what to look for, you’d never know they were anything more than friends. In trusted company, they’re a bit more open. Never obnoxiously so, of course; it takes a very small crowd of very close friends before they’re comfortable enough to really touch one another. But it’s obvious in the fleeting brushes of fingertips over an arm, the intimate tilt of an ear towards a mouth to share a murmured thought, and the way they always seem to gravitate back to one another.

When I say I wonder about their private life, I don’t mean the basic things like positions or kinks or who’s on top. I don’t wonder if they do what I would do, in either of their positions; if Kyo takes Mao’s piercings between his teeth and tugs ever-so-lightly like I would, if Mao traces the interconnecting lines of Kyo’s tattoos with his tongue the way I’ve imagined. Ah, but what I wouldn’t give to know… No, I wonder about which personalities surface in the solitude in their bedroom, if only because both of them seem to be composed so many distinct – at times, contradictory – layers. Is it the soft, spiritual sort of trance-state Kyo goes into when left to his own devices? Does it feel like prayer? Is it the wickedly playful sprite Mao turns into in casual company? Does it feel like mischief? Or is it the dark, fierce explosion of passion that both become when they’re on stage? Does it feel like sin?

Hmm… this line of thinking has become entirely inappropriate, I think.

“Die?”

I look over to find Mao standing in the kitchen doorway, and wonder how long I’ve been zoning out, imagining his sex life with one of my best friends. I also notice, now that Kyo isn’t laying on him, obscuring the view, that this is the first time I’ve seen him shirtless in person. Here, he looks very little like my own vocalist – leaner, with few tattoos, a touch paler and lacking the faint scars of Kyo’s breakdowns – but equally attractive. There’s a barbell over his sternum that seems to make a trail of connect-the-dots between his mouth, neck piercing, and navel, guiding my gaze like navigation points inevitably downwards. I manage – barely – to stamp down that urge and refocus on his face, but some of the damage has already been done. Shit… which would be more obvious; looking down to check and see if I’m visibly hard, or holding my drink hopefully-casually in front of my crotch just in case?

“Oh, hey Mao. Sorry, I zoned out for a minute.”

“Oh, I see.”

Ah, okay, not too noticeable then. At least the resident mind-reader is still off in the bathroom; Kyo would definitely know something is up.

“Ne, Die…” Mao starts, scratching his chin absently and looking me over with an odd gleam to his eyes, “…Would you be upset if I told you I had… ulterior motives, for inviting you over tonight?”

I cock my head a bit. I’ll admit to having never questioned his motives; Kyo and I don’t hang out all that often, but it isn’t unheard of, and it only seems natural that Mao would want to get friendly with his lover’s inner circle. “Probably not. I guess it depends on the motive.”

Mao grins a bit. “Fair enough. Tell me… if Kyo weren’t here, and I was lying on the couch with just you… lights turned low, shirtless, playing with chocolate cherries, watching a show with decidedly homoerotic undertones, what would you think?”

Oh, thank the gods… here I thought all the sexual tension in those brief moments I spent watching the television was just a projection of my own frustration. I laugh a little at the picture he paints, offering my answer as a joke if only because it makes me a bit uncomfortable. “Well, when you put it that way… why Mao! If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to seduce me.”

“What makes you think you know any better?”

…Is he being serious? I’ve never really known Mao to commit to jokes like this, but he can’t honestly be coming onto me right now. Not in the apartment he shares with his lover, with said lover just down the hall. “Ah… because you’re… with Kyo? Who’s… one of my best friends… and who has a pretty strict policy on people who cheat on him?”

“That he does. But he doesn’t consider it cheating if he’s involved as well.”

“…”

I open my mouth to respond, then realize I haven’t actually come up with an answer to that. I think my brain may have just died – either from shock, or exsanguination as all my blood rushes south – because holy shit, is he suggesting a threesome with him and Kyo?! Maybe I’m just a horny optimist, but that’s where it sounds like this conversation is heading.

He shifts his weight a bit, hip jutting out to one side, and a smirk tugs at his lips. “Look, we were going to tease you a bit just to see if you’d be interested, but I’m getting the impression it’s upsetting you. You’re a good person, so I’m going to go ahead and guess it’s because you feel guilty about getting hot and bothered over your best friend and his lover, not because you aren’t enjoying yourself?”

I manage to nod a little.

“Well, I’m going to tell you something about Kyo and myself… you can do what you want with it. I love Kyo – absolutely and without question. And I know he loves me. I think he’s the most stunning creature I’ve ever set eyes or hands upon, and I know he thinks I’m beautiful. And on our own, we have a phenomenal sex life; our neighbors and a handful of cops can attest to that. But…”

“…‘But’?” I breathe, uncertain. None of this makes any sense! From what he’s saying, their relationship sounds perfect; why would they invite me over specifically to sed-

“But we’re both really attracted to taller men,” Kyo’s voice cuts in as he appears in the doorway at Mao’s side, “And sometimes we like to… indulge ourselves.”

“…Heh…” I can’t help myself. “Heh heh heh…” I shake my head and chuckle, putting one hand over my face, because this situation just crossed that final line into too bizarre to be real. “You… you invited me over to seduce me… the both of you… because I’m tall?”

Kyo scratches the back of his head, almost sheepishly. “Well, no… we invited you specifically because I trust you to be clean and discrete…”

“And because we both think you’re goddamn gorgeous,” Mao adds, grinning. “We’ve talked about it before, a few times. It’s just that you’re single now, so we thought maybe you’d want to… you know… hang out with us, for a night.”

“…For sex?” I just have to be clear.

Kyo starts to grin as well. “Yeah.”

Mao bobs his head. “Yes please.”

“…Like… a threesome?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s the idea.”

Huh. I lean back against the counter again and take another slow drink of my beer, considering. So… Kyo and Mao want to be the comically undersized bread on a Die sandwich? I don’t usually think of them as short – they both have incredibly large personalities and, under the force of that, it’s easy to forget their physical stature unless I’m standing right next to one of them – but the point’s been made and brought back to the forefront of my attention; I tower over the both of them. And that apparently turns them on. The mental image is half hilarious, half enticing. Kyo’s want for discretion makes sense; even among our friends, he would hate for something like this to become fodder for jokes and gossip. And I can certainly keep a secret. As for cleanliness…

“…Bareback?” I wonder.

Mao grunts a little, biting his lip with obvious hope, and Kyo’s eyes go bright. “If you’re willing. We’re both clean.”

Well, it came from Kyo, and – as I said before – I tend to believe everything he says. “No strings attached?”

Mao’s hand jerks out to grasp Kyo’s wrist, looking abruptly excited, but Kyo turns his head a bit and I just barely catch him whispering “No, no bondage” before he turns his attention back to me. “We’ll be perfectly fine, if you will. Nothing needs to change or get weird; it’s just for tonight… just a taste.”

I don’t know how I would have responded to this if I’d been fully sober. Maybe I’d have been able to think of some reason why I shouldn’t jump into a one-night stand with two friends who happen to be in a committed relationship, one of whom is _deeply_ entangled with my professional life. Happily, I’m right in that magical place where I’m drunk enough to think that clean, consensual sex with two attractive men is a pretty damn amazing idea, but still sober enough to actually do something about. I finish my drink and set it on the counter, standing straight (and noticing with no little fascination that they both look just a touch flush as I do).

“Alright then, Warumonos… show me.”

Matching grins spread across both their faces, utterly wicked and wide with anticipation. Mao backs out of the kitchen, beckoning to me with one hand, and Kyo follows, his entire body falling into a predatory prowling motion I’ve seen a thousand times on stage. Shoulders rolled back, hips and head forward, accentuating both the utterly masculine strength and musculature and the unusually pronounced curve of his ass that make his back so undeniably sexy. Mao’s movements, as he walks backwards to lead us towards the bedroom, are more open; arms held out to the sides in invitation, hips swaying just so with each step, alluring and taunting and inciting. They pass through the bedroom door and both reach out a hand in unison, grabbing the trailing ends of eachother’s drawstrings and pulling loose ties apart. Neither misses a step as the loose-fitting pants they’d been wearing fall to the ground in pools of soft cotton around their ankles, leaving them both entirely bare as Mao backs himself onto the bed and Kyo follows, crawling over the younger man.

Yeah, this is definitely a good idea.

For a minute, I just watch them. Again, I feel like a voyeur, but guiltless voyeurism is just so goddamn exhilarating. They meet in a kiss – not the fleeting, surreptitious press of lips I’ve managed to glimpse before, but full on feeding at one another’s mouths – and I’m almost certain it’s for my benefit that they keep themselves just separated enough that I can see their tongues lapping and twining around eachother. Kyo drops his hips to grind into Mao’s and it puts him into an arch that makes every muscle in his shoulders, back, and ass stand out in glorious relief. Mao’s hands come up, long-fingered and elegant, and dig angry red lines through the yellow ink on Kyo’s back, lean legs sliding up to further intertwine himself with his lover. I rub one hand over my crotch absently to alleviate the ache building there, but to be honest, I feel like I could watch these two make out all damn day.

Evidently, they want more than a spectator. I only get to enjoy the show for a few minutes before they’re pulling apart, turning on me and rising to their knees with blatant intent. I move closer to the blondes and find four hands coming forward to meet me, grabbing at my arms and clothes and dragging me onto the bed between them. Somehow, I guess I had expected that kissing (on the mouth, at least) would be reserved for just them; that because they’re in a relationship and I’m just a guest in their bedroom, it would be too intimate for me to take part in. I’m proven entirely wrong when they push me onto my back and – as Mao sets to work opening my shirt – Kyo ducks down to catch my mouth with his own. It’s intense, slow but just a little rough, and for a minute it seems like he’s actually sucked the breath out of my lungs, because I go entirely lightheaded.

I don’t know if I helped without realizing it or if he’s just that good at undressing people, but when Kyo breaks off for air, I find that Mao’s managed to get my shirt off and halfway across the room without my notice. Normally this is the part where I start to get a little self-conscious, but there’s too much going on for me to focus on that right now. Kyo moves down to work off my jeans and Mao comes up to kiss me, faster than Kyo had been – enthusiastic like he’s trying to explore every last millimeter of my mouth – and I find myself grabbing onto his hair to brace myself. He doesn’t seem to mind.

Then they’re both gone, and I find myself blinking in utter confusion, panting a little to catch my breath. I push my hair out of my face and prop myself up on my elbows to see what’s going on. I’m entirely naked now, and they’re both kneeling – Kyo on my left, Mao on my right – just… staring at me.

“W-… what’s up?” I ask, feeling a bit uncertain.

“Holy shit…” Mao breaths, biting at his lip ring.

Kyo smirks a bit. “Told you.”

“Gods, Die, your body is fucking glorious!”

I know I’m blushing now, as Mao wraps a hand around himself and just starts jacking off looking at me. I don’t think I’ve ever been so openly, visually devoured by someone. A low grunt off to my left calls my attention back to Kyo and find that he’s doing the same. I’m half embarrassed, half turned on beyond belief, and when I bend one leg up just a little bit to steady myself, they both let out soft moans.

“Die… fuck, Die, just… just hang on a second, alright?” Mao groans.

“Nnh… we just… just need to bleed it off a little,” Kyo pants, almost apologetically.

They shift a bit, leaning forward and releasing themselves to reach out and jerk eachother off furiously over me instead, and the sight is absolutely enthralling. There’s something about being laid out on their bed, with both of them looming over me getting off on just looking at me, that appeals to the baser part of my nature in ways I can’t even begin to explain. They both just seem so… needy, and being masturbation fodder for two men I hold in such high regard makes my blood boil. Mao breaks down first, hunching over and grabbing onto my thigh with his free hand to brace himself as he shoots his load over Kyo’s hand and my stomach with a shuddering groan. Kyo is close behind him, rocking his hips wildly into Mao’s fist until he goes rigid and growls, adding his own spunk to the mess. They take a moment to get themselves back together, and all I can do is watch as both of their gazes fall to my cock.

“Ne, Kyo… I think he enjoyed the show,” Mao murmurs with a devious little grin.

“Nnh, he’s dripping,” Kyo purrs.

My vocalist drops down suddenly and I gasp when his tongue rasps over the head of my erection, lapping up the drop of precum that had gathered there. Mao follows him and I see their mouths fall open, tongues reaching out, before an onslaught of wet heat and slick suction blinds me with pleasure, startling a curse out of me. They both press down on my hips to keep me pinned as they lick, suck, and mouth me into absolute madness, lips and tongues and piercings sliding over more places than I can even focus on until I’m entirely overwhelmed. They’re both smaller than I am and younger than I am and it means absolutely nothing because they’ve taken control of the situation until they have me utterly dominated. It’s not my typical taste in play but still, it doesn’t take long before I cum so hard I have to bite my fist to keep from moaning too loudly.

“Fucking Christ…” I manage after a moment.

Kyo chuckles, “Don’t pass out on us yet, Die…”

“We’re only just getting started,” Mao promises.

I grin a bit at that and sit up and all at once, they’re on me, exploring every centimeter of my body with hands and mouths. Now that the edge has been taken off and I’m not liable to burst at the slightest contact, I have the presence of mind to participate as well, and we become a tangled mess of sweaty limbs. They’re touching me, they’re touching eachother, I’m touching both of them, and I finally get to indulge in some of my favorite fantasies; I trace the intricacies of Kyo’s tattoo with my tongue and grab palmfulls of his ass, I tug at Mao’s piercings and rub myself against the smooth plane of his belly. Mao seems more interested in my arms and legs, feeling along the length of them over and again, where Kyo goes straight for my belly button, licking and biting at it before making his way up to my nipples. It isn’t long before I feel a telltale hardness against my ribs on one side and my hip on the other.

Mao grabs me by the hair, dragging me into another wild kiss, and I follow his pull eagerly. He keeps moving back and back, on his knees, so I’m forced to crawl after him until his back hits the head board. The hands in my hair start to pull down and I oblige, mouthing my way down his neck and chest. I reach his belly button and flick my tongue into it, earning a squirm and a groan from him, but before I can reach my goal between his legs, Kyo calls my attention back to my lower half. I twist my head back over my shoulder to look and find him kneeling behind me, one hand on my hip, the other – the one that just caught me off guard – pushing one slick finger into me.

“A bit presumptuous, aren’t you?” I manage not to moan too much when I say it, which I’ll go ahead and count as a victory.

Kyo grins. “Nobody sticks their ass up like that and doesn’t want something put in it.”

“Get back here!” Mao demands, pulling on my hair hard enough to sting.

I huff a bit and bite the inside of his thigh in retaliation, and he changes his tactics, stroking my head instead and nudging me more gently towards his ache. I take just the tip of his cock into my mouth, sucking lightly and pulling a low grunt out of him, getting a second finger from Kyo as he watches me give his lover head. I wasn’t really expecting to be taking it on both ends, and I think if I were doing this with anyone else, I’d feel like kind of a slut, but it just feels so damn good with them. Kyo has wonderfully long fingers and Mao tastes amazing, so it’s not long before I’m spreading my thighs and swallowing more and more flesh, centimeters at a time. Kyo takes it as a sign to add a third finger, Mao starts rocking his hips a little, and I feel like I’m fucking on fire.

“You alright?” Kyo murmurs.

“Mmm,” I hum affirmatively around the flesh in my mouth.

Mao jerks a bit in response, choking me for a split second and yanking on my hair again. “Oh gods…”

Kyo pulls his fingers out and starts to push the head of his cock into me instead, and I have to pull off of Mao for a minute to breathe. Mao strokes my hair sweetly when I press my forehead against his hip, trying to relax to the stretch of being filled as Kyo rocks further and further into me by slow increments.

“Die… you’re fucking beautiful, you know that?” Mao tells me, his voice husky.

“So fucking beautiful,” Kyo moans, digging his fingers into my hips.

“Unh…” is the best answer I can give them.

Once Kyo is fully seated, they give me a moment to adjust, but I’ve never really been patient enough for that. As soon as the worst of the initial sting is gone I pull up and swallow Mao to the hilt, startling a groan and a curse out of him and apparently signaling my readiness to Kyo. They both start rocking into me, Kyo pushing into me as Mao is pulling out, slowly at first but quickly ramping up to an almost desperate pace. Every time Kyo hits my prostate I moan around Mao’s cock, which makes Mao moan and tug on my hair, and Kyo thrusts harder in response until we’re trapped in a maddening cycle. There’s something incredibly fulfilling about pleasuring two vocalists; their moans and grunts and cries just hold so much more power, rising and falling together in a song that speaks to the very basest parts of my blood.

I feel hands press onto me – two settling on my shoulder blades, then one on my lower back – before Kyo and Mao both shift their hips higher, deeper into me. I hear their moaning become more muffled, underscored by wet, smacking sounds, and realize that they’re making out over my back while fucking me from both ends. Somehow the mental image of them meeting overhead is what undoes me, and my second orgasm actually hurts, it hits so hard, so close after the first. Kyo swears, Mao digs his fingers into my back hard enough to bruise, and they both lose their rhythm, driving into me with wild abandon. I have to brace against Mao’s hips to keep him from choking me to death but the sounds they’re both making are more than worth the discomfort.

I feel Kyo go tense, but he pulls out at the last minute and I hear the brief sound of flesh pumping flesh before heat splashes over my ass. Mao groans something like “hell yes” and pulls me off of his cock, fisting himself and jerking furiously until cum spills out across my mouth, cheeks, and chin. Kyo flops to one side, panting, and Mao slumps back against the headboard. I sit back, shaking a bit from fatigue, and wipe at the mess on my face, far too sated to even be all that bothered by the unexpected cumshot. Kyo grunts suddenly, reaching out one hand to me, and I lean over to him languidly. He wraps a hand around the back of my neck and runs his tongue up my cheek, humming appreciatively at the taste of Mao there before letting me go again.

“Sorry, Die,” Mao murmurs, sounding absolutely unapologetic.

“You can use the shower, if you want,” Kyo offers, gesturing to the bathroom.

I wrinkle my nose and smile at Mao. “I don’t mind. Thanks.”

My legs are shaking pretty bad, but I manage to walk to the bathroom without collapsing in the hallway. I have to lean on the shower wall to stay standing while I wash up, and I notice once the smells register that I’ve used Kyo’s bodywash and Mao’s shampoo. It seems fitting, considering it was Kyo’s cum all over my back and Mao’s in my hair. When I finish and step out to towel off, I realize I didn’t bring any clothes in with me, so I wrap the towel around my hips for the walk back to the bedroom. I stop in the doorway, feeling a bit awkward, but apparently they don’t intend to kick me out now that they’re done with me. They both reach out a hand to me, and when I’m close enough, they drag me back down to the bed to cuddle up on either side of me.

Mao undoes my towel and throws it aside, Kyo pulls a thin blanket over us, then they slide one hand each over my chest to entwine their fingers. They lean up and I get to see the kiss that only they get to share; the slow, sweet exchange of love that has nothing to do with consumption or lust and everything to do with familiarity and devotion. Oddly enough, I don’t feel left out, almost… kind of honored to witness the more intimate moment. I do, however, get a kiss on the cheek from Mao, and a lazier one on the neck from Kyo, before they settle down against me to sleep.

“Thank you, Die,” Mao murmurs tiredly. “We’ll make you breakfast in the morning…”

“The hell I will,” Kyo grumbles, muffled against my shoulder. “ _Mao_ will make you breakfast.”

I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This one started with the mental image of Kyo and Mao Eiffel-Towering Die, and just kind of spread out from there. Hope you enjoyed it!


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